


Your Father's A Real Jerk

by httpsawesome



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Femslash, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Idk what year it really takes in but angie has a laptop so roll with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpsawesome/pseuds/httpsawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Angie comes over unexpectedly, and sometimes she brings alcohol, and when that happens Peggy knows not to ask questions and just let her get drunk enough to vent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Father's A Real Jerk

**Author's Note:**

> Just like 'It's Cold' I wrote this all in one sitting around and after midnight with no beta. All of it is just word vomit.

Sometimes Angie comes over unexpectedly, and sometimes she brings alcohol, and when that happens Peggy knows not to ask questions and just let her get drunk enough to vent. 

 

 

She likes to drink some sort of strawberry flavored cheap wine reminds Peggy of sickly-sweet medicine and it only adds to the effect of 'I don't want to drink this but it might make be stop feeling like shit' but it never does. But they never stop drinking it, because it's nice to pretend that it's working like medicine should. Plus it's cheap, and the guy that works at the gas station Angie buys it from has a crush on her so he never cards and it gets them both drunk fast enough. 

 

This time is different, it seems, because Angie is usually spitfire and anger and more than once she had to tell her to quiet down her drunken bouts of unbroken speech about whatever is pissing her off, but not this time. 

 

She is not yelling. 

 

She is not sharing the bottle, instead chugging it down until half of it is gone. 

 

She is not angry. 

 

Before Peggy can find some way to subtly get her to confess what's wrong without her knowing, Angie breaks the silence with a watery "I just got kicked out."

 

Of all the moments to suddenly notice things, she makes a note that she's wearing her pajamas and no shoes, only bedroom slippers. 

 

"You can move in with me." She says, knowingly. Reassuringly. Acting like a rock even though the sentence drove a stake of worry and fear through her like nothing else ever had. 

 

Angie laughs with tears on her face. "You never even asked your parents."

 

"You're my best friend. They're not going to leave you out in the cold." She tries for a smirk but it feels forced. "Besides, the south doesn't hold a candle to English hospitality."

 

Angie doesn't laugh at that, only fiddles with the label on the bottle. Looking down. Avoiding her eyes. Peggy lets the silence keep for a moment, focuses her eyes on how a few strands of her hair had fallen out of her messy bun, curling around her cheeks.

 

"My dad kicked me out." She finally blurts out. "I feel like I should tell you everything before you take me in. You have the right to know."

 

"You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with."

 

Angie sucks in a big, shaky, nervous breath. "I told him that I was gay. Well, I didn't tell him, but he found out. I left my laptop on and he took it upon himself to just fucking - go through it and he saw everything. And he yelled and he just - " She was crying in earnest now, something Peggy had never seen since before. Angie doesn't cry, she kicks and screams and punches walls and fumes silently as Peggy tends to the possible fracture on her hand as she refuses to go to the hospital, but she doesn't cry. 

 

Peggy finally uproots herself and sits next to her. She latches on and uses her as support as she breaks off her story. 

 

There are a lot of things to say in this situation. She could say "I understand" but it seems trifling and unneeded. She could call her father an ass, a jerk, someone who she shouldn't spend time crying about but she's still going to cry because that is her father, and he would still mean something to her right now. She could confess and say that she's had a crush on her for who knows how long now, but this isn't a romantic moment and she shouldn't try to turn it into one. 

 

Silence, she decides, is the best thing right now. Being there is good enough for the moment at hand, and confessions can be made in the morning when the situation has changed but for some reason, everything feels better. 

 

 

 

 

 

When the sun is in the sky and they wake up with the decision that they both need a day off from school, Peggy comes up with the idea of sneaking into the house when he's at work and taking all of her things. They're done in time for breakfast, and Peggy confesses over the sound of bacon sizzling and the smell of pancakes cooking. They kiss, and it's all bittersweet. 


End file.
